


High School Sweetheart

by lockmyheart



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockmyheart/pseuds/lockmyheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey run into Ian's colleague, who points out something none of them have considered before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High School Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> This has been swirling around my head for a while now so last night at 3 AM I whipped this up. Hopefully it's all right!

Mickey already couldn’t stand grocery shopping, so when they ran into Ian’s chatty colleague (chatty to Mickey's standards, at least), he wanted to just pretend he didn’t know Ian and duck out of there as quickly as possible. No such luck though, because the very moment the woman came up to Ian, all smiles and bubbly attitude, Ian’s fingers curled around Mickey’s elbow to keep him in place. Sometimes Mickey was convinced that Ian could read his mind.

“This is Mickey, my boyfriend,” Ian said, with as much pride as ever, showing Mickey off like he was some sort of fancy car. “Mickey, this is Helen.”

Helen shook Mickey’s hand and Mickey was about to be surprised that she didn’t as much as raise an eyebrow at his tattoos, but then he noticed the sleeve tattoo peeking out from the cuff of her jacket. That could explain it. At least Mickey wasn’t about to get the _look,_ the one that always seemed to imply he wasn’t up to par.  

“So.” Helen looked between Ian and Mickey with a smile on her face. “Finally, the elusive boyfriend. We never see you at the parties.” 

“Oh, Mickey’s not too big on parties,” Ian explained. “I ask if he wants to come and he always looks at me like I’m crazy.”

Mickey sent Ian a glare from the corner of his eye. Way to make him seem like a loser. “Just not my thing,” he muttered, subtly tugging on his arm as a sign he wanted to get the fuck out of this awkward small-talk, but Ian’s fingers tightened around his elbow as a warning.

“That’s completely understandable, we tend to get quite wild, don’t we, Ian?” She snickered and winked. Mickey almost glared at her too, because what the fuck, _wild_? The hell was that supposed to mean?

“I don’t know about ‘wild’ but yeah, it’s loud. Mickey’s not really into loud music and –“

“Can we not talk like I’m not standing right here?” Mickey shot in, once again trying to pull his arm out of Ian’s grip but Ian was having none of it. He guessed this was what he got for always turning down an invitation to meet Ian’s coworkers.

“You’re not exactly contributing to the conversation, so what am I supposed to do?”

“You could just let me do the fucking grocery shopping like we came here to do and not hang around blocking the aisle for everyone else.”

“There’s literally no one else here, Mickey. You could at least pretend to be nice.”

“Whatever.”

Ian breathed out loudly through his nose, sounding like a pissed off dragon.

Meanwhile, Helen was looking between the two of them with an amused smile. “Been together a while, right? You argue like my parents, who’s been married for over two decades.”

“Yeah, a couple of years. How many has it been now?” Ian’s eyes met Mickey’s, all traces of anger gone from his face. They had times when the anger resonated for a few days, but annoyance left from bickering usually disappeared as soon as it had arrived, which was lucky for them because they bickered a _lot_.

Mickey shrugged. “Depends on how you look at it. Could be eight, could be six.”

“Eight years, really?” Helen’s already wide eyes turned even wider. “And you’re how old, Ian, twenty-three?”

Ian’s hand moved from Mickey’s elbow to rest on the small of his back. “Yup. Mickey’s a year older.”

“That’s _amazing_. Really, wow.”

It was actually kind of nice that she was so impressed in what seemed to be a positive way. It made Mickey feel like he’d actually done something good. And he had, he had managed to hold onto Ian, against all odds. He glanced down, forcing back a smile. Ian’s fingers made little stroking motions on his back and he just _knew_ Ian was preening beside him.

“You know,” Helen continued, “I have a friend who stayed with her high school sweetheart too, they actually got married this spring after twelve years. It was so beautiful, I swear I cried my eyes out during the vows.”

Mickey looked back up, eyebrows raised. “The what now?”

Ian pinched Mickey’s back, a signal for him not to start some kind of discussion in the fruit aisle. “That’s so nice, I hope they’re doing well.”

“Oh, they are, they’re expecting their second child in November.”

Mickey tuned out as Ian and Helen started gushing about babies, and it didn’t seem like either of them minded that he didn’t have anything to add. He still thanked the heavens when Ian finally managed to say they had to go pick up some cereal and Mickey said a polite bye. 

“Jesus, thought you’d never stop babbling,” he said, pulling down a box of cheerios and dropping it into the cart. “Why are you so social, it’s freaky.”

Ian flicked Mickey playfully in the forehead, pushing the cart towards the register to pay for their shit, and thank god for that because Mickey was so done with this grocery store.

They started on their way home, their arms brushing as they walked, holding one bag each because they were fair people.

When Ian drew a breath, Mickey just _knew_ what he was going to dredge up. “I never really thought about it before,” he said, grinning widely, “but you’re my _high school sweetheart_.”

Mickey snorted. “How the fuck do you figure that?”

Ian looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Fifteen and sixteen, both still in high school. We’re still together, _ergo_ : you’re my high school sweetheart.”

“Ew, no, that’s cheesy as fuck.” Mickey shook his head, making a face. “It doesn’t count because one, we didn’t meet in high school. Two, we never even hung out at school. Three, there was no making out in broom cupboards, no passing of lame notes, and no fuckin’ proms.”

Ian elbowed him lightly in the side. “Still though.”

“Fuck off, man.”

Ian wrapped his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “You’re my high school sweetheart, just admit it.”

Mickey shook Ian’s arm off, just because he was being so cheesy it was giving Mickey a toothache. “All we did was fuck, there was nothing sweet ‘bout that.” _High school sweethearts._ For fuck’s sake. His life wasn’t a fucking chick flick. “You and me both know if you’d dared to call me that in high school you’d have a boot shoved up your ass.”

Ian just laughed, because their high school drama was mostly hilarious to them now, minus a couple of more serious incidents. “I kind of like it.”

“A boot up your ass? Kinky.”

Ian kicked Mickey’s foot. “No that. ‘High school sweethearts’. I like it. It’s cute.”

“Of course you do, you’re a giant cheeseball. That gonna be our relationship status on Facebook now?”

“You don’t even have a Facebook because you _refuse to make one_.”

“Don’t wanna conform to society’s expectations, man.”

“Oh, yeah, right, God forbid.” Ian rolled his eyes, shoving Mickey with his shoulder again. Mickey shoved him right back.

They bickered back and forth about whether the term applied to them or not (Mickey insisted no just on pure principle and plain stubbornness) and finally they were walking up the steps to their apartment and Mickey thought the subject would be put away.

Alas, alas. Ian flounced into kitchen. “C’mon, Sweetheart,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Gotta put the milk away before it gets warm.”

Mickey grabbed a pen from the kitchen table and aimed it at Ian’s head, but he ducked away in time, a stupid grin on his face. “I can still shove a boot up your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Seriously, if you start calling me that I’m leaving you.”

Ian bit his lip, still grinning. “Uh-huh.”

“Dead serious.”

Ian pressed his lips to Mickey’s temple. “I’m sure you are.” He opened the fridge, placing the contents of his bag inside. “Chicken or pasta for dinner?”

Mickey heaved a giant sigh. “Chicken.”

* * *

 

They ate in silence, but Ian kept glancing at Mickey throughout, smiling around his fork. Eventually Mickey had had enough of it. He rolled his eyes and placed his own fork down onto his plate. “Alright, what is it?”

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.” Ian was still smiling, looking at him so tenderly that it made Mickey look down, unable to keep the eye contact because of how it made him feel. He blamed the candle Ian had insisted on putting on the table. Candles did something to you. “Who’d have thought,” he finished.

“Who’d have thought what?”

Ian’s foot nudged Mickey’s under the table. “That we’d last. Through high school, and then all these years. And now we’re here, in our own apartment. 

Mickey knocked his knee into Ian’s. Fuck him for still being able to make his stomach swoop. “Looked pretty dark for a while, didn’t it.”

“Yeah. But it’s us now.”

Mickey nodded, unsure of why his heart was picking up speed. All he could come up with was a hoarse, “Yeah.”

“Forever.”

Mickey looked between both of Ian’s green eyes, finding nothing but utmost sincerity in them. Ian reached over the table to cover Mickey’s hand in his. Mickey forced out a chuckle, because the only way to survive moments like these were to joke about them. “What, you proposing to me, Gallagher?”

Maybe he should have chosen a different angle, because Ian blinked in surprise. “Did it—did it seem like I was?”

Don’t panic, don’t panic. “Nah, man, I was just… y’know.” Mickey went to pull his hand out from under Ian’s, but once again Ian held onto him, preventing him from slipping away.

“If I did, what would you say?”

Ian sounded apprehensive, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was taking it too far or not. But Mickey figured, fuck it. “Sometime.”

“What?”

“That’s my answer.”

There was a look of confusion on Ian’s face until it suddenly dawned on him. His eyes widened almost a comical amount. “Sometime?”

Mickey let out a soft breath, turning his hand palm up so he could wrap his fingers around Ian’s hand. “Yeah. Sometime.”

“Okay.”

The grin on Ian’s face was unlike anything Mickey had ever seen, whoever had come up with the phrase ‘million dollar smile’ must have been thinking of Ian when they coined it. Sometimes he still had a hard time believing it was him that made Ian look this happy. “I still don’t agree with the whole high school sweethearts thing,” he said, attempting once more to get the situation, and his raging emotions, under control.  

Ian laughed and leaned across the table, pulling Mickey closer by the neck until their lips met in a hard, fierce kiss over the candlelight.

Now _this_ Mickey knew how to deal with.  


End file.
